


No Innocent Gold

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bilbo and Thorin get rid of the damned thing, Hopeful Ending, The One Ring - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: Bilbo realizes that his ring is bad news, and runs to Thorin.





	No Innocent Gold

It was a well known fact in Erebor that Bilbo Baggins was cantankerous and high-strung, wont to kick up a fuss over the seemingly littlest things. Many dwarves didn’t understand his odd fixation with greenery and food, just as he didn’t see the appeal of stone. But bursting into Thorin’s chambers with tears in his eyes and a terrified expression was a bit unusual even for him.

Thorin snapped to attention, ushering the hobbit inside and glancing around for any threat. He patted Bilbo down, searching for any injury. He moved to speak, to ask what was wrong, if anyone had hurt him, but Bilbo spoke first.

“Take it!” he shoved something into his hands, and Thorin saw that his hands were shaking, “Take it, _please_ , I cannot hold it any longer!”

“Hold what?” Thorin looked down into the object thrust into his hand as Bilbo began to pace, muttering to himself. It was a ring. A simple gold band, deceptively benign. It was a pretty thing, even if Thorin treated all gold with an air of caution since the battle. He could hardly understand what about the trinket had Bilbo so upset.

“I can’t carry that...that-that-that _thing_!” Bilbo cursed, running his hands through his already messy hair, “I should never have grabbed it in those damnable goblin caves! It’s evil. It’s horrible, it’s _doing_ something to me!” Thorin felt a cold dread begin to build in his stomach. Doing something to him? He couldn’t possibly mean...

“Bilbo.” Thorin lowly, taking his shoulder gently to stop his pacing, hoping to ease the frantic hobbit’s mind. It wasn’t possible. A hobbit couldn’t get gold sickness, it was a weakness of Durin, “You must calm yourself. You are speaking in riddles, ghivashel.”

“This ring!” Bilbo pointed at it accusingly, eyes wild, “There’s something wrong with it! Listen to it!”

Listen? Thorin felt the dread intensifying. “Bilbo-“

“Listen!” Bilbo demanded, voice high with distress. Thorin felt worry gnaw at his chest, but he listened, ears straining for anything out of the ordinary. Anything-

There. A whisper. Faint, but present. One would have to listen intently to try to discern it. The words were soft, faint, Thorin closed his eyes to try to hear better, he could almost-

Small hands shook him, and his eyes snapped open. Bilbo looked even more frightened now, and Thorin suddenly remembered how often the hobbit had stared into the distance, lost in thought with his fingers in his pocket. Had Bilbo been facing this menace since the goblin caves? Had he been straining to hear the whispers as well, tormented by an inexplicable draw towards the ring?

“There, see!” he exclaimed, voice shaking too hard to be considered triumphant, “You went quiet and still, for two minutes! You were listening, weren’t you? To the whispers.”

“I was...” Thorin blinked slowly, mind racing. The ring was silent now, lying innocently in his hand, “What devilry is this?” his whispered fearfully.

“Do you see what I’m talking about?” Bilbo asked in a hushed tone, “It’s unnatural, is it. I once passed a whole night just trying to listen, and I was surprised when morning came in the blink of an eye.”

“It is... concerning.” Thorin said slowly, “We should consult Gandalf. Perhaps...” he stared down at the ring. Perhaps he could bring it to one of his own, rather than the wizard. Gandalf was tricky and wily, always with his own agenda. The ring would be better served in dwarven hands. He could...

“Thorin.” Bilbo said firmly, dragging him from the reverie he hadn’t known he’d fallen into, “Give the ring to me.” Thorin felt something in his chest rise, some resistance to the idea of letting go of the ring that brought memories surging back, molten gold and a fragile throat under his hands, wide frightened brown eyes pleading silently with him. He hurriedly closed Bilbo’s hand around the ring, his own shaking.

“You didn’t want to, did you?” Bilbo’s eyes were searching him, “Something in you rebelled at the idea.”

“Yes.” Thorin admitted solemnly, mind racing, “Have you...?”

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded, brow creased, “I have to get rid of it, Thorin. It’s evil, there’s no other explanation. It wants me to wear it, I think. I...” he lowered his eyes, ashamed, “I snapped at Ori earlier. Snapped at the poor lad simply because he asked what I was holding. It was an innocent question, but I got so angry for a moment...”

So that had been the last straw for Bilbo. That was what had sent him careening into his chambers pale as a ghost and near tears.

“I’m certain he bears you no ill will.” Thorin assured him, squeezing Bilbo’s shoulder, “Ori is a kind soul. Forgiving.”

“Is this what it was like for you?” Bilbo was turning the ring over and over in his hands. Thorin doubted he even knew he was doing it, “Is this gold sickness? Can a hobbit even _get_ gold sickness? I don’t want gold, I _hate_ gold. But this ring... My heart quails at the thought of parting with it.” The idea of Bilbo falling as he once did, of Bilbo facing the same demons he had and losing himself, it chilled the very blood in Thorin’s veins. Hobbits valued home and hearth, food and family. No creature of the sun should fall to gold sickness, _especially_ not Bilbo Baggins.

“I will see it taken away. Far away.” he drew Bilbo over to his desk, rummaging around in his drawers until he found what he was looking for, “And have it buried in the deepest part of the mountain. Beyond, if possible. We will inform Gandalf of this, and he will decide if anything else is to be done about it. This vile thing will not take you.” He set a small box on the table, opening it as Bilbo watched curiously.

“Thorin?” he asked, voice soft.

“It is a dwarven lockbox.“ he rumbled, “It can only be opened by a special combination lock that only a dwarf would be able to unlock. This one in particular is one that only I know.” Bilbo would have to betray him to get it. Bilbo’s eyes widened with comprehension, and his hand tightened around the ring in a way that made Thorin’s heart clench.

“If I put the ring in,” he deduced, “I’ll never see it again.”

“Yes.” Thorin said, “It is for the best.” Bilbo nodded, but he looked sick at the thought. Or perhaps he was sick with himself for wanting to keep it? Bilbo hesitantly stretched his hand out over the box, shaking fingers unfurling to reveal the ring, lying innocently in the firelight. Thorin had only spent a few moments holding the ring, but even he felt a thrum of anxiety about locking it away. He could only imagine how Bilbo was feeling. He kissed the top of Bilbo’s head, pressing his nose into the honey curls.

“Why is this so hard?” Bilbo asked softly, “I hate this horrid thing. I hate it so much, and yet...”

“I believe in you.” he said the words he always regretted never saying on the quest, “You are strong, Bilbo. Stronger than even you know.” He would pluck the ring from Bilbo’s hand if he could, fling the vile thing away from his burglar. But this was something Bilbo must do himself. He must make the choice to let it go. Bilbo’s hand shook, and he hesitated over the box, his hand seeming to rebel against him. Bilbo closed his eyes, drawing strength from whatever it was he drew strength from. Perhaps the thought of Gandalf, of his parents. Perhaps the memory of snapping at Ori. Perhaps Thorin’s warmth beside him. Slowly but surely, Bilbo’s hand rotated. The ring seemed to cling to his palm until the last possible moment, and Thorin swore he could hear a hint of angry whispers growing louder.

When the ring at last fell from his hand, the whispers stopped abruptly. Thorin closed the box, setting the lock and feeling the pride swell in his heart. He knew his hobbit was strong. He knew he could overcome all odds. Bilbo slumped into a nearby chair, all the air seeming to have fled from him. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Thorin approached him, kneeling beside him and taking his hands.

“I did it.” Bilbo mumbled disbelievingly to himself, shoulders shaking, “I did it. I did it.”

“You are lucky.” Thorin murmured, “And keen to have recognized that it was affecting you. If you hadn’t...” Would he have lost his burglar the same way he lost his grandfather? Would he have even recognized something was wrong until it was too late? Or would Bilbo have eventually fled to the parts unknown and leave Thorin to never know what fate had befallen him?

“I don’t feel lucky.” Bilbo murmured, squeezing Thorin’s hands, “I feel antsy. I feel empty. I don’t like it, Thorin. I don’t want to feel this way about a stupid magic ring.”

“I will ensure you recover.” Thorin said firmly, bringing Bilbo’s knuckles to his lips, “The emptiness will not last. The company and I can fill it.”

“Yes?” Bilbo peered down at him, earthy brown eyes curious, “Are you certain you can keep that promise?”

“I am.” Thorin reached to smooth Bilbo’s hair back, “You will never fall to anything, be it sickness or blade or your own mind, so long as I live.”

“And old age?” Bilbo asked softly, “I’m fifty three, Thorin. Perhaps if I were younger, I may have recognized what was happening sooner.” Thorin’s breath caught in his throat. It was a grim knowledge that sat in the back of his mind every day, that his vibrant burglar would wither and fade away before he did. Old age was an enemy he could not fight. But damned if he wouldn’t try for Bilbo’s sake.

“I will follow you to the hobbit afterlife.” Thorin nodded as if it were a done deal, “And drag you back by the ears.”

“Ridiculous.” Bilbo scoffed, “Yavanna wouldn’t have it. Silly dwarf.” but he was smiling now, leaning into Thorin’s touch as his shoulders finally began to relax, “And this is assuming you behave and allow me to perish before you do.”

“Never.” Thorin kissed his knuckles again, “Never.”

Whatever that ring was, it would never again cause trouble for any Baggins.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really beta read so I’m sorry for any shittiness


End file.
